


Interim in Northern Faerghus

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Mid-Time Skip, dubcon, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29338383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kinkmeme fill:inspired purely from conversations on the anon meme... honestly i'm here for anything but the original topic was post-ts, annette wanting to get experience with kissing/sex and asking sylvain who goes along with it. only to be surprised when later annette amicably breaks things off because she doesn't like him like that - surely she's joking right? right.Can be interpreted as noncon, although initially I meant for it to be more in the vein of dubcon. Posting anonymously because honestly I'm not that into noncon but this was a fun exercise outside of my comfort zone (and I still think it's dubcon but I'd rather tag carefully)
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 11
Collections: Anonymous, FE3H Kink Meme





	Interim in Northern Faerghus

"The Baron Dominic and his niece, the Honorable Miss Dominic," the Gautiers' longtime butler announced as the doors to the main hall of the castle were thrown open.

The first thing that Sylvain noticed about Annette was that her orange hair had grown much longer, to about her mid-back, and she had it pulled back into twin tails at the back of her head.

The next thing he noticed was the small amount of cleavage peeking out from the bosom of her white and burgundy riding dress.

That was new since their days in the academy.

Two years had passed since the fateful Battle of Garreg Mach. He hadn't written to Annette in all that time. It wasn't for lack of interest, hut rather because it was simply impossible. 

The Dukedom, led by Cornelia and totally subservient to the Empire, was expanding by the month, and her reach was stretching further south every day. 

Houses Gautier, Fraldarius, Galatea, and Charon were spending almost all of their resources fighting the Dukedom, and it was still not enough. House Rowe switched its stance from anti-Imperial to neutral some months ago, and it was clear to anyone that it wouldn't be long before they fell to the Dukedom entirely. They were already letting Dukedom soldiers pass through their borders, which almost caused the end of the ageing Count Charon.

Beyond Annette and her uncle, stablehands were leading their horses by the reins around the back of the grounds to the stables. 

The Baron bowed deeply, and Annette curtsied. Her head bent low and her ankles crossed.

It felt uncomfortable to Sylvain.

He wanted to say hi to Annette like they were old friends, he wanted to tell her he was glad to see her alive and ask her if she was still studying black magic like she used to in school.

But his father insisted that the Dominics were not to be trusted, and in fact this meeting was only to see what could be done to stave off their impending fall to the dukedom for just a few more months. That was as far ahead as anyone could think, nowadays.

Meetings that lasted all day were catered with Gautier cheese and the finest cuts of cold meat and an increasing amount of wine. By the time the meetings ended, Sylvain was thoroughly buzzed, and he sat across from Annette at dinner, pulling faces at her to get her to laugh and trying not stare at the way her dress sculpted her cleavage and the tight bodice shaped her waist and the way her satisfied hums around her fork sounded almost like pleasured moans.

Finally, after the last course, Sylvain was inebriated and Annette's cheeks were ruddy and dark and she tripped as she approached him as he plucked at the piano in the sitting room.

"I've been wanting to say 'hi' to you all day," she said as she sank onto the stool next to him. She smelled like the plum cake they'd had for dessert.

"And here I was wondering if Her Honorable Annette Fantine Dominic even recognized me from our school days together," he teased, and he misplayed a few notes in the song as he let his attention wander too far.

She didn't seem to notice, however, and the redness of her cheeks spread over the rest of her face. "Of course I recognized you, how could you say something so terrible?" 

He chuckled as he tried to make his fingers more nimble on the keys. As though she'd even scratched the surface of how _terrible_ he could get.

"My uncle is very strict about etiquette," she whispered, and she leaned too far into him as she whispered and her breath raised goosebumps on his neck. 

"How are things with your uncle, really?" Sylvain asked, abandoning his attempt at playing and turning to face her. "I mean, I know from all the meetings that you're _safe,_ but does he treat you well? Has he tried to marry you off to the highest bidder?"

Annette glanced into his eyes briefly, and he thought she looked surprised at him for asking. It was an extremely natural thing to ask, though, so he wasn't quite sure why. After all, Annette bore a Crest, and it was only a matter of time before she was auctioned off like all his other friends.

She laid her hands over the keys and she began to play the same song that Sylvain was playing in a higher register.

"There were some talks, right after we left Garreg Mach. My uncle wanted to secure a marriage to a Kingdom noble in the west. But now he thinks it might be safer to marry me off to an Alliance noble, and he's started considering Imperial families, too."

Sylvain raised his eyebrows at her. "Marrying off the Crest of Dominic outside the Kingdom?" 

Her fingers fumbled against the keys, and she scooted forward on the bench to better pluck at them. "I know. I told him it would be an embarrassment to our family."

"We'll find you a nice Kingdom lad," Sylvain assured her. "Although they're a dying breed."

Annette stopped playing suddenly, her fingers driving down on the keys in a cacophonous clanging. Sylvain winced, and Annette glared up at him. 

"That isn't funny."

"I was just joking," he assured her quickly. Although he wasn't. 

"I have spent every day for the last _two years_ worried sick about you and Felix and Ingrid," she admitted, and she'd picked up her skirt and was wringing the loose fabric through her fingers. "I can't even write to you unless we send a pegasus courier, and House Rowe has been shooting them down."

"Sorry," he said quickly, growing warm as Annette became more and more emotional. "It was in bad taste."

"And Ashe disappeared, I'm pretty sure he was conscripted into the Rowe army. I'm worried for him."

"Listen, Annette," Sylvain said, and he took hold of her shoulder so she would stop hunching in on herself. "Why don't we just focus on enjoying our time together now? While we have it?"

She took hold of his upper arm to steady herself against him, and after a moment's pause she nodded vigorously at him. "Yes! You're right, of course you're right. I'm sorry."

"Hey," he said, and with the hand not on her shoulder he brushed away tears that formed in the corner of her eye. "No need to be sorry. Being with you now is enough."

Her blue eyes were wide as she looked up at him, but somehow, without her angled bangs and with her slimmer cheeks and painted lips, she seemed much different than the girl he knew at the Officer's Academy, much older and wiser and more like a woman he'd take to bed with him.

He pressed his lips against hers and he knew right away that this had been the wrong move. She tensed against him, and her hands came to his shoulders to push him off, but he ducked his head before she had the chance.

"Ah… sorry," he said, and he scooted back on the bench to put some space between them. "Old habits."

Annette didn't answer him right away, but she ducked her head and played again, her fingers lingering too long on some notes and too short on others. Her neck was bright read, and Sylvain stayed at the edge of the bench next to her, curious about what she would do next.

"Sylvain," she said, the music dying beneath her fingers, and he raised an eyebrow in response. "I've been thinking… I know it's not appropriate but… if my uncle does marry me to a noble from Adrestia or Leicester… I'll be all on my own, and I'll have to learn _everything_ on my own. And that scares me."

"I don't know what you mean, Annette. I'm sure your mother, or even his mother wouldn't hesitate to teach you about domestic duties."

"I… no," she stammered, and the bashfulness in her tone was cluing him in to the more mature nature of the conversation. "I mean. Everything about… _wifely_ duties." 

Heat rushed down to his belly and he gripped the edge of the edge of the bench to keep himself anchored to the spot. "And by wifely duties you mean...?"

Her face was already so flushed, but more redness flooded her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, and her freckles disappeared in it. "I… you know. The things that go on between a husband and wife. In the marriage-bed."

He scoffed at her, and a smirk pulled at his mouth before he could rein it in. "I assure you I wouldn't know anything about that. But if it's _sex_ youre asking about--"

"Sylvain!"

"--then I could definitely give you a few pointers."

She was trembling, probably from some long-repressed desires flaring up in her now, or from fear, or from some misplaced sense of shame.

"Hey, we're friends," he assured her. "You wouldn't be the first person to ask me about this."

"Really?" she asked, surprised. 

"Why don't we wash up from dinner and you can stop by my room later. I'll lay out everything you need to know then."

***

Once he washed his face and changed from his dinner clothes into something more loungey, he sobered up considerably. 

It was stupid, what they'd agreed to do. They were drunk. He didn't actuay expect Annette to show up to his room just so he could guve her a lesson on _sex_ before she was married off like some prized, Crested mare. 

A knock on his door made him hurry over to it, and he was confused when one of the stuffy servants was on the other side.

"Oh, what--?" he began, worried that his father was calling on him, but he paused when the servant began to speak.

"The Honorable Miss Annette Dominic," the servant said, and Annette stepped out from behind him, in a more casual navy dress, with ruffles at the shoulders and sleeves that reached her wrists. The skirt brushed her ankles as she stepped into his room.

"I… wasn't sure you'd come," he said honestly when he closed the door behind her.

"We agreed, didn't we? Should I go? I'll go," she said, all in one breath, and he caught her wrist before she could turn around.

"That's not what I meant," he said, and let his lips curl into a small smile. "I'm _glad_ you're here."

"Oh," she said simply. "Good, then."

It was definitely awkward, and Sylvain wasn't sure exactly how to start, but Annette looked up at him before shifting her gaze to the floor and sweeping her hair over her shoulder. She fumbled with something at her back, and she explained, "There's a clasp back here--"

Of course she was getting right to it, as serious as though she was flipping to a page in the library to study black magic with him. But _he_ was the teacher this time, and he'd have to guide her through this. 

"Let me," he said, and he found the clasp at the back of her neck, and he loosened it and several others until fabric pooled around Annette's shoulders.

He had to lean down so far to press his lips against the smooth, newly bare skin there, and he could feel Annette shiver as he did.

He pushed the dress down further, pushing it down her arms and her torso at the same time, and when he got to her hips he had to give it an extra push to get it past them. It pooled on the floor at her feet, and he held her arm as she stepped out of it.

Her cheeks were red, her eyes wide, and she looked up at him quietly, unsure.

"What?" he asked, smiling, and he started undoing the buttons of his shirt to join her in her state of undress.

"Nothing! I just… I'm wondering if I look… okay, to you. That's all."

He stopped unbuttoning his shirt to look down at her. Her skin was uniformly pale, from her shoulders to her slightly convex stomach to her small thighs to her feet. Her breasts were moderately sized, and they were bare to him now, her nipples pointed in the nippy air of his room, pale pink like the nose of a kitten. Her hips were much wider than he remembered from their days at school, and he reached out and pulled her into him by them. 

"Yeah, I'd say you look pretty okay." Her face was a sheet of red, so deep it blotched out the freckles across her cheeks, and he brushed her hair out of her face. 

He backed up so he was sitting at the foot of his bed and he pulled her into him. With him sitting and her standing they were almost eye to eye. Annette had the height advantage now and he pulled her into the space between his knees to kiss her. 

Her lips were waxy with lipstick, and soft and timid. He raised his hand to her jaw to help her angle her mouth against his better.

She was tense.

"Hey, are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, and he dropped his hands away from her.

"Yeah, I do," she said quickly, and she squared her shoulders and set her jaw like she was getting ready for a fight.

"Okay then," he said gently, and he tugged her by her wrist until she fell into his lap. "Come here." 

She'd brought her hands to his shoulders for balance, and he placed a hand over her bare thighs and the other at her back and he kissed her again.

This time she was more determined, like he was a subject to master, and she pressed her lips into his with more authority. It was a better kiss than the first one, although when he tightened his fingers around her hip over the material of her panties and opened his mouth, she started to tense up again.

He'd done this with plenty of first-timers before, girls who were nervous, girls who never put their mouths on anything except the fancy dishware that had been in their families for generations. 

With a wet noise he separated their lips, and he pressed into the sensitive skin at the crook of her neck. 

A familiar noise, part moan and part sigh, rumbled past her throat as he kissed it, and he inched his hand from her hip to the bottom of her ribs.

"Oh," she gasped when he let his teeth touch against her skin, and her fingers dug into his shoulder as her voice dissipated into a throaty moan.

He raised his hand to her left breast breast and traced his fingers over the pert nipple, and he kissed her over her clavicle.

She was squirming against his lap, her movement creating friction against his growing length, and when he licked a hot stripe against her nipple she scraped her nails up the back of his neck and twisted her fingers into his hair.

She wasn't much for being quiet, although he'd sort of suspected that would be the case. It didn't matter, the servants were used to the cries of satisfied ladies, or hand servants, or shop girls, or whoever it was that found themselves lucky enough to be in his bed.

He treated her other breast the same way, licking and sucking at it until her fingers scratched sore lines against his scalp. 

She was so tiny, it was easy to slide her off his lap and press her into the bed, and after he kissed her mouth a bit he sat up to slip off his shirt.

Her azure eyes slid over him, dark, curious, questioning. He smirked at her expression and unbuckled his belt to push down his pants.

Doe eyes focused on the bulge beneath his smallclothes, the tent that strained against the fabric, and he crawled over the mattress until he was nestled next to her against his plush pillows. 

"You can touch me if you want," he said casually. "You can touch _it."_

Her lashes cast shadows over her round cheeks as her gaze flicked from his face to his crotch. 

Some girls were clumsy with it, pawing at it halfheartedly until he put them both out of their misery by fucking her and ending it. Some girls took to it quickly, wrapping slender fingers around him until he pushed them back and dove inside. 

Annette scooted closer to him, until her breasts brushed against his chest and her knees against his. She kissed him then, like they were actual lovers, soft with an open mouth, and he pressed his tongue against hers and she copied his movements, angling her head to brush hers against his in the same way. It was funny, the way she seemed to be absorbing everything carefully, thoughtful and slow but thorough.

She kissed his neck, then, the same way he'd done for her, although it was almost too much for him, the pressure she applied against his sensitive skin. She continued her sucking kisses until she get to his pectoral muscles, and he was wondering what she'd do next, as this was where he'd left off with her. Raised her hand to his abdomen, feeling the hard-earned musculature, the result of hours of training first with the Professor, then with the men of the Gautier army. 

Her nails weren't so long as to be unsightly, but they extended past the tip of her fingers, and they were well-manicured, rounded and smooth. They trailed over his skin as she explored further downward, and she was tracing the winged arch of his hips and the trail of auburn hair that led to his twitching cock. 

The waistband of his smallclothes stopped her, and she only hesitated for a moment before she laid her palm over the outline of his length.

Her adventurousness stopped there, and her cheeks were dark again when she looked up at Sylvain, a question in her eyes.

"Go on," he encouraged, smiling early at her although his heart was racing and with every beat more warmth pooled beneath her hand. 

Slowly, agonizingly, Annette inched her hand down and he hissed against it, even through his smallclothes.

"Oh," she said, nervousness in her voice. "Was I not… was I doing it right?"

"It was feeling good," he told her, and stroked his fingers down her bright red hair.

"Oh," she said, and she glanced down to his cock again. She bit her lip, and he wasn't sure what was going through her mind, but in the next moment she was pushing down his ssmallclothes and reaching for his cock, pulling it free of the fabric. 

She looked surprised, but not horrified, like some girls did, and not scandalized, like he thought she might. She looked almost scientific, that curiosity sparking in her eyes again.

Wordlessly, she traced her fingers over him, and his cock jumped at his light touch.

It was nice, the light strokes she made against him, but it made him frustrated for a more deliberate touch, for more friction.

"I know this is dumb," she said, and it was almist jarring hear her familiar voice, the same as it ever was in their classes at Garreg Mach. "But you're, um, _way_ bigger than me. Taller, you know, and I don't see how--"

He laughed, and he hoped that she would see it as endeared amusement rather than a jibe at her, personally. "It'll fit," he assured her, leaning back on his pillows. "I swear."

She looked down at him again. 

"We do need to open you up first," he said, and moved away from her to pull down his smallclothes. She watched his cock bob as he moved, and when he turned his attention to her she took a moment to raise her eyes to his. "You'll like this part," he added, and he leaned down to kiss her.

Perhaps it was her lipstick, but she tasted like something sweet, and her perfume was fruity and subtle. He didn't spend very much time kissing her lips before trailing a kiss to her jaw, then down her neck, to her chest, and then further down to her stomach, until he was kneeling between her legs and hooking his fingers into her panties. 

Annette shifted her hips, and he wasn't quite sure if it was out of nervousness or eagerness. He kissed her thigh as he pulled the thin fabric down her leg, and when he'd taken her panties down past her ankles, he tosses them behind him somewhere and brushed his fingers over the ginger curls over her womanhood, then he dragged his tongue up from her slit to to the sensitive pearl nestled at the top.

She was writhing under him, moaning, and he was sure that this was a totally new feeling, much different than her own fingers, if she was even used to those. 

It took a few coaxing, slow laps with his tongue to get her to relax and let her knees fall apart. When her moans turned from high pitched and frantic to lower, satisfied sounds, he trailed his hand up her thigh.

She was definitely tight. Even working her with his mouth, his finger met the walls of her pussy all around it, although it didn't seem to be causing Annette any pain. He glanced up her and she had her head thrown back against his pillows, her fingers white knuckled as she fisted the fine linen of his duvet.

A pretty sight.

He moved his finger inside of her, and she was moaning loudly, satisfied sounds to encourage him, or to comfort herself as pleasure overwhelmed her. After some of the tightness around his finger gave way and she relaxed a little, he added a second. This time her head snapped forward, but he applied more pressure with his tongue and sucked at her clit, not minding the wiry curls that tickled his face, and her legs fell open again and he slid his fingers into her.

"Ah, Sylvain," she cooed, and he increased the pace of his tongue against her. "It--it's too much, I can't--" 

His mouth was numb, his face damp, but he didn't mind it. Annette was about to be another woman he'd helped to achiever her first orgasm--or at least, he was assuming it was her first, based on the way she was becoming totally overwhelmed--and she was taking his fingers so well, even with the fast pace he'd adopted and the force he was using to drive them into her. 

She shouted as she came, nothing in particular, not even his name, but he continued to thrust his fingers inside of her even as her pussy clenched around his fingers and her legs tightened around his ears.

She fell quiet. Her moans giving way to heavy panting, and he left two fingers crooked inside her as he wiped his chin on his bare arm.

"Oh," she sighed, and her eyes fluttered open and she looked to him. "I need a minute."

"I'm sure," he said, and he leaned over her, his hips over hers, and he stroked his pulsing cock.

Her pussy was wet from his work, her thighs glistening in the firelight, and he pressed the head of his cock to her pussy and thrust forward slowly, grinding against her clit as his cock met her the soft, pale skin of her belly, teasing her with the length. 

"Ah," she gasped, and her fingers came up to rest on his shoulders as she looked up at him.

"Are you ready for it?" he asked, his voice low in his throat, electricity swirling from his hot cock at the peak of her thighs to his abdomen to his racing heart. His words only excited him more, and he brought the head back to her entrance, anticipation curling beneath his skin.

"Sylvain," Annette said, and she wrapped her fingers around his biceps and looked up at him with her big blue eyes and her gingery eyelashes. 

He half expected that she would confess that she loved him, and he really wished she would just let him push his cock inside of her, but then Annette was never one to know the right times to be quiet. 

He raised his eyebrows and shifted impatiently against her, and frowned as she tilted her hips away from him.

"I--I'm sorry but I don't--I don't want to do this," she said, her lower lip wobbling, and she looked up at him expectantly.

"Are you kidding?" he demanded blankly. His cock was already wet with just the slickness of her thighs.

"No I'm just--this isn't a good idea," she admitted, and her whole face and neck and even her shoulders were turning a deep red.

"You're just saying that because I already got you there. Just give it a minute," he said, and he flexed his hips, pressing the head of his cock against her clit, and reached between them to help angle himself inside of her when she pushed the palm of her tiny hand into his chest. 

"I said _no,"_ she said, more firmly.

Annoyance bubbled in his stomach and he turned his sharp frown into a chuckle. He raised his hand to her chin and lowered his face so that his mouth was next to her ear. "It's too late to say no," he growled, and the way she looked up at him with her wide eyes, which were still so dark with desire, made his cock throb against his thigh.

"Sylvain," she began, and he pressed the pad of his thumb against her lower lip.

"Sh," he soothed, making sure to let his breath pass over the sensitive skin of her neck, and when she opened her mouth to continue, he pressed his thumb between her lips, past her teeth, and her ginger eyebrows furrowed and her lashes brushed past them. "Relax," he said, and he pressed down on her thigh to urge her legs apart and before she could tense up too much, he slid inside of her.

She shouted around his thumb, and when he looked down at her, tears had collected in the corners of her eyes.

"It's okay," he told her, and he raised the hand at her mouth to brush at her eyes with his knuckle tenderly. "You feel so fucking good," he told her, and her wet eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at him. "You're doing so well." 

"It _hurts,"_ she told him, a whimper in her voice, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from shifting his hips into her.

"I'll go slow," he promised, knowing as he did that he wouldn't be able to keep it. He slipped a hand between them and once he found a comfortable position amongst her thick curls, he circled his thumb around her clit. "This'll help."

She stayed quiet as he nestled into her, and when she started to shift beneath him he ducked his head to press kisses against her throat.

"Good girl," he praised between kisses. "You're getting it."

He pulled out as little as he could bear before shifting into her again, trying to stay shallow. She tensed up and screwed her eyes shut and he could practically feel her tightening around him.

"You gotta relax, Annette," he reminded her, impatience creeping into his tone. 

"I'm _trying,"_ she gasped, and tears were pricking at her eyes again.

"Keep your legs apart," he reminded her, and he pressed his hand into her thigh to force it back. "Arch your back."

He kept his thumb working against her clit, trying to help her along, and she hesitated but did as he asked.

"Good," he groaned, and he slid into her again. "You're so tight," he praised, and he pressed in deeper, testing to see how much she could tolerate. 

She was definitely shifting against his fingers, trying to adjust to his cock in her and desperate for his fingers on her sensitive clit.

"You like it, don't you?" he growled, and she whimpered as he nudged himself inside even deeper. "You like being fucked, isn't that right?"

"Ah," she stammered, and her red cheeks, dark eyes, and wet pussy were giving her away far more than he words could've. 

But he wanted to hear it.

"Tell me," he ordered as he drove into her, and she gasped as he pushed in even further, squirmed against his fingers between her thighs. "Tell me you love how I fuck you."

"I--" she began, but a moan cut her off as he increased the pace of his fingers. "Oh--n-not so deep I--"

He ignored her as his own pleasure built, trying to keep the pace slow to accommodate her. He pressed her hip into the mattress so he could fuck her as he pleased, and her lip looked so pretty as she bit into it.

"Fuck, Annette," he groaned, and he knew he was probably going too hard but she was so _hot_ and _tight_ and he could feel the tightness in his lower belly spreading up to his chest. "Tell me you love it," he commanded, and he pressed down against her clit as he rubbed swiftly, matching the pace of his vigorous thrusts, and her fingers were wrapped in the sheets as she came with a strangled shout. 

"Oh!" she wailed, and she was grasping at his arms as she started to come. She hadn't done as he asked, but she didn't need to when the enjoyment was so plain in her strangled voice and quivering pussy.

She clenched so tightly around him that his cock was pushed out, and he pressed the leaking head into her abdomen just above her orange curls and finished himself off against her, his cum splattering against her flushed skin, painting a pretty portrait he wouldn't soon forget. He collapsed onto his back next to her, panting at all of his effort.

"There you go," he said once he'd caught his breath slightly. "That nasty virginity won't be bothering you anymore."

"Yeah," she said, and her voice was tight. He propped himself up on an arm to look over at her. 

They weren't kids anymore. They hadn't been for a long time. She couldn't hold it against him for doing exactly what she wanted. Not when she came twice.

"You good?" he asked, as though she'd lost her balance yet again on the training grounds at school.

"Yeah," she said, in the same way she always answered him--indignant, a little bit embarrassed. "I'm bleeding."

He glanced down to her thighs, and among ovular purple bruises that must have been from his fingers, sticky blood mixed with her slick had pooled out. 

"There's a bathroom through that way," he said, and he gestured to the open doorway. "A hot bath might help."

"A bath… that does sound _really_ nice," she conceded, and Sylvain was almost alarmed at how she sounded like that innocent schoolgirl. "But… I don't want the servants to see me and gossip. I _don't_ want my uncle to find out about this."

"They're all used to keeping quiet about my lady friends," Sylvain assured her, but the look she shot him was withering. "Fine, fine. I'll call for a bath for myself and we'll hide you until they're done prepping it."

"You don't mind?" she asked, a soft smile pulling at her lips.

"Nah. We're friends." 

Her smile grew, and he pulled the soiled sheet off his bed and she wrapped it around herself. "Stay here," he said, and he directed her into his corner closet. It was mostly disused this time of year, filled with winter furs and other gear, but there was plenty of space for Annette to sit comfortably inside.

He shrugged on a bathrobe and summoned a servant to draw a bath for him, and within the half hour the deed was completed and he sent the scullery maid--a young girl who flirted with him but he hadn't bedded (yet)--back to her quarters.

He opened the closet door and Annette was curled atop his furs, asleep, looking so tiny swathed in the sheet.

"Annette," Sylvain said, and when she didn't stir he crouched and cleared his throat. _"Annette."_

She moaned sleepily, and in light of their recent activities he couldn't help but feel a pull in his chest at the sound.

"Come on. Don't waste the bath."

"Mm," she complained, although she looked up at him and clutched the sheet to her chest as she sat up. "A bath sounds good."

"Yeah," he said, and he helped her stand up, finding as he helped her to the bathroom that she was a bit shaky on her legs, and he averted his eyes as she sank into the steaming water.

While she soaked in the bath, he tackled the unpleasant task of changing his sheets. Ordinarily he would've asked the maid to do it, but he wanted to give Annette the privacy she craved. 

He'd just gotten the heavy comforter thrown over the oversized mattress when Annette emerged from the bathroom, her red hair damp, a bath sheet wrapped around her slim body.

"You made the bed?" she asked, her hair throwing droplets of water over the carpet as she scrutinized his work.

"Yep. These hands never stop working miracles," he said with a wink.

"Well, you did the corners wrong. You're supposed to tuck it in, then tuck in the slack, then tuck in the side. They look all bunchy."

She stooped down to fix it, but Sylvain caught her elbow and pulled her into him. She was so tiny, she had to look up so far to meet his eye. She pulled her arm away from his fingers but she didn't step away from him.

If she was any other girl he would have tried to get it in again, but this was little Annette. A warm feeling passed over him, and he tapped the underside of her chin with the knuckle of his first finger.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure you're tired."

She scrunched her nose at him. "Well, yeah. I am. I should get back to my own room, I guess."

Sylvain still had to stack his pillows neatly against the headboard, and he only sneaked a peak at Annette as she slipped into her dress again. The navy material brought out the paleness of her skin and the freckles that dotted her shoulders and back. 

He busied himself by starting a fire, which didn't take too long with a simple fire spell to help him. The nights were cold in Gautier, and without the body heat of another person beneath the sheets he'd need it.

Her dress was securely on, and she tightened the small corset at the front absently.

"Um, Sylvain. This was--I mean I--"

"No thanks necessary," he assured her with a lopsided grin. "Not a bad way to spend a free night."

She pursed her lips and looked up at him. She really was adorable when she blushed so deeply. 

Sylvain walked her over to the heavy wood door that let out to the stone guts of the castle. He wouldn't usually let a girl out of his room without kissing her, choosing to leave a romantic picture in her head that she'd be sure to tell all her friends about, but with Annette it was suddenly feeling awkward. He pulled open the door and she pressed into him, her head barely coming up to his chest as she wrapped her arms around him. It was too genuine, and he tensed up under her embrace before patting her on the top of her damp head. "Get some sleep, Annette," he said, wishing she'd let go.

"Yeah, you too." She stepped into the hall, smoothing out her wrinkled skirt as she did. "I'll see you in the morning."

"See ya," he said, and when she turned around he pushed the door closed.

His newly-made bed seemed cold despite the fire when he sat back on it.

***

"Thanks for having us," the Baron Dominic said with a bow, and Annette curtsied silently at his side, dipping her head low as she did.

"Please reach out if you have need of resources," Sylvain's father said. "We can't help much from so far north, but we realize how unsteady peace is in the West."

"We'll hold as much territory as we can," the Baron said solemnly. "We'll be meeting up with Lords Fraldarius and Galatea on our way south around Fhirdiad. I'm sure they'll update you if our plans must change."

"Safe travels," Sylvain said, and he looked down at Annette as he added, "and be safe."

Her face was the picture of innocence as she looked serenely up at him, and it made something cold and hard twist in his chest. "And you, Sylvain. Goddess be with you both."

The Baron urged her into the carriage that was waiting for them down the path, and as they pulled out of sight to the southern road the Margrave sighed harshly.

"I hope you weren't too eager with your little friend," Sylvain's father said, his tone resigned but with a rough edge. "The West will not hold for much longer, not with House Rowe's history and the Dukedom's reaching claws."

Sylvain frowned at his father. "We should have offered them respite. They can do more good here in the East than going back to a doomed territory."

"The Dominics are a small family, but they are proud. It's their goddess-given duty to protect their lands, and the Baron will not humiliate himself by fleeing his home. Don't speak on things you know nothing about."

Without another word, the Margrave turned with a flourish of his half-cape toward the castle entrance, and Sylvain tried not to think about Annette and her innocent enthusiasm and the tears that clung to her eyelashes the night prior.

He followed his father into the castle to seek out the company of the maid-girl.


End file.
